


Think Well of Me, Please

by dreamplaza



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamplaza/pseuds/dreamplaza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the infinitememe prompt: sungyeol wins a bid to be in the first colony of humans to mars. sungjong doesn't make the list and now sungyeol has to decide what's more important to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think Well of Me, Please

On the day the papers are collected in Itaewon, Sungyeol goes with Sungjong to place their slips into the giant container loaded on the back of a truck. In front of them, a middle-aged woman pushes an entire stack into the slot. Sungyeol holds the tiny slip of paper in his hands, the single piece of pristine white paper that’s been crinkled at the edges from the wind, and looks away. Sungjong squeezes his hand for a fraction of a moment, and before Sungyeol can reciprocate, he is already stepping forward to hand over his own single piece of paper. Sungyeol’s hands are shaking a little when he pushes the slip into the slot, so it crumples a little before he tries again, and gets it in on the second try.

 

It’s not fair, Sungyeol thinks. Like any other thing that is essential to their survival, this ballot ticket out of this decaying planet is skewed to the older, richer, more powerful. The first colony has already been selected, according to the rumors circulating the internet. The news reports slap on the words ‘unbiased’ and ‘unprecedented’ on their headlines but Sungyeol watches the way one anchor lowers her eyes when she says these words and another shift subtly in his chair and he already knows. He knows neither he nor Sungjong might be able to make it to Mars.

 

Sungyeol collects the mail promptly every fortnight, because Sungjong usually has to work late and because he keys notifications into Sungyeol’s phone. That guy hasn’t forgotten that one time he’s missed an extremely important interview date for a budding small-medium enterprise. Sungyeol has to sleep on the couch for a week. Sungjong got the interview in the end because his uncle’s best friend from childhood knew someone’s niece-- whatever. Sungjong made him sleep an extra day on the lumpy couch after he’d received the acceptance email.

It is a surprise to flip through the thin stack today to find one from the central government. One that is addressed to him.

 

Sungyeol almost rips the letter into half as he tries to tug it out of the envelope-- they have yet to buy a letter-opener even though it’s been a year since they moved in together-- and when it finally gives Sungyeol scans the words on it so fast his head spins a little.

_Congratulations, Mr Lee Sung Yeol, you are selected to be part of the first--_

Sungyeol rips his eyes away from the last word with a little snarl and scans for any indication--

_Regrettably, you are not permitted to bring any person but yourself--_

 

“Sungjong-ah,” Sungyeol says over dinner. Sungjong takes one look at his face and puts his chopsticks down, folding his hands on the tabletop.

“I’ve got the letter,” Sungyeol almost whispers. For once, he wishes they have the TV on. It would definitely have drowned out his words.

There is a pause as Sungjong’s half-smile slips a little off his face.

“That’s--” he musters up a smile that fools no one. “Great.”

“I’m sorry, “ Sungyeol says. 

There is nothing else to say, really.

 

When Sungyeol kisses Sungjong later in their bed, Sungjong responds with such ferocity that it leaves Sungyeol gasping against the heat of it. At the back of his head, Sungyeol might attribute that strength to Sungjong’s desperation and disappointment and fear, but he isn’t sure. His thoughts become muddled when Sungjong is pressing him down between the sheets, and Sungjong is still pretty hard to read, sometimes.

Sungyeol has been in awe of Sungjong’s strength for a long time.

 

These days, Sungjong has taken to cooking dinner early, so dinner time coincides with the 6.30PM news. Sungyeol has banned TV during mealtimes, a long time ago, so they’d focus on each other when they eat and not on the latest drama playing after the news. They’re all about the same thing actually. Sungyeol approves of Sungjong’s rather unsubtle attempt to make life a little more bearable for them both. Their spoons clink softly against the bottom of the soup bowl, hands brushing one another’s as they scoop kimchi and tofu into their own little bowls.

 

Calling his estranged mother is a strange affair.

The way his mother speaks to him when she picks up the phone is brisk, to say the least. Sungyeol hasn’t hoped for anything more.

“Mom.” His words are stuck in his throat, and he has to clear his throat before he continues. “I got the ticket.”

“Ticket for what, Sungyeol-ah?”

Sungyeol grits his teeth so hard his gums sting momentarily. After three years, she is still the same person who sat silently at the dining table as Sungyeol packed his bags. She is the same person who merely peered out of the window as her husband kicked his eldest son out of the house three years ago. She is the same person who would call and say, _Sungjong-sshi sounds like an amazing friend to have. Does he have any female friends he can introduce to you?_

Sungjong opened the door to Sungyeol and his duffel bag, and welcomed him in with open arms. In bed later, Sungjong wiped his tears for him and told him, _We are built to live on, even without the parts we think are essential._

Sungyeol believed him.

“The ticket to Mars,” Sungyeol snaps, and winces. He sounds exactly like his mother.

Over the line, his mother’s breathes evenly into the receiver.

“Have you received letters, too?” Sungyeol asks, and he’s proud to say that his voice only wobbles a little at the end.

“No.”

“Have-have you checked your mail yet?” Sungyeol tries.

“The letters were sent out a week ago, Sungyeol-ah. Daeyeol’s been checking twice every day for the past five days.” _Oh._ Sungyeol supposes that there are benefits to watching the news, occasionally.

“But, congratulations, Yeol-ah. I’m so happy for you.”

Sungyeol says goodbye and hangs up. He hopes that he didn’t imagine the warmth in his mother’s voice.

 

Not watching the news means that they miss out on a lot of valuable information. Information like, the day that Sungyeol has to leave for Mars.

“Two days,” Sungjong says contemplatively from behind Sungyeol. The fan on the side of the laptop whirls, the outdated block of plastic hot against his palm, and Sungyeol says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“I’m not going,” he blurts out.

“Hyung,” Sungjong sighs. “It’s just the first batch they’re sending. I might be right behind you.”

“ _Might, Sungjong-ah._ What if this is the last I’ll see of you?”

“You won’t.”

The words sound so wrong coming out of Sungjong’s mouth that Sungyeol is a little more than extremely incredulous.

“How do you know that? You don’t know that.” Sungyeol knows he’s being unreasonable, but he just can’t seem to stop himself. And with every word that comes out of his mouth, Sungjong’s lips droop down further, helpless against the barrage of truth that he doesn’t want to face.

“If.” And here Sungyeol steadies himself for the reaction he is almost guaranteed to get. “If you’d gotten the slot, and I didn’t, does that mean you will choose to leave?” He’s almost a little afraid to meet Sungjong’s eyes, but he is definitely afraid of his answer.

Sungjong stays silent.

“Y-you. I can’t believe you,” Sungyeol stammers, but he keeps his eyes to the ground. He does not want to look at Sungjong just yet. He realises that he’s babbling, but right now he will do almost anything to fool himself into thinking that he didn’t hit the nail right on the head. He runs out of words to say, and Sungyeol finally plucks up the courage to look at Sungjong. He’s biting his lips, eyes downcast. His right hand thumbing the fat of his inner left arm. Sungyeol feels so betrayed that he has to choke back a sob.

“I can’t believe you,” he says again. “I can’t believe y-- Oh god, I _love_ you--” he wants to laugh. Hysterically. Seven years meant nothing to Sungjong after all.

“Hyung--” Sungjong reaches to touch Sungyeol but he jerks away.

“Don’t touch--”

“No, you listen to me.” Sungjong holds Sungyeol by his shoulder, his face set in resolve.

“You’re so selfish,” Sungyeol says, twisting his shoulder, trying to shrug Sungjong off, but his boyfriend is having none of it.

“You’re the selfish one,” Sungjong says over his protests. Sungyeol stands still in shock for one moment, and that anger comes right back. But in that one moment when he was frozen, Sungjong already has him dragged towards the couch.

“Let me talk, alright.”

Sungyeol clenches his jaw and nods stiffly.

“Do you think I want to be left behind? Do you think I won’t feel guilty if you stayed with me? Think about that, Sungyeol-hyung.”

“Do you think there is anything for me over there if I leave?” Sungyeol shoots back.

Sungjong is frustrated now, Sungyeol can tell. His mouth is drawn thinly into a frown, and he has his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Listen, there is no guarantee that I won’t be coming on the next flight over--”

“There’s no guarantee that you will.”

“ _If--_ let me finish, hyung. _If_ I get to go, I want to see you at the gates.

“There is nothing for either of us if we stay, hyung.”

And he’s right. Sungyeol doesn’t know what to do, so he settles for an apology. He feels like the tension seeped out of him so quickly that he’s left boneless in resignation. He slumps forward and Sungjong is there to gather him into his arms.

Sungjong’s strength never fails to surprise him. 

“Thank you,” Sungyeol mutters against the shell of Sungjong’s ear. Again, Sungyeol isn’t sure what else he should say.

“I’ll see you soon. It’s a promise.” Sungjong draws away with a small smile on his face.

 

The send-off is a quiet affair.

There is crying, of course.

Sungyeol kisses Sungjong, and lets him go.

Sungjong looks back with a little smile on his face, and Sungyeol believes that he will see him soon.

 

The station on Mars is an intricate design, the walls white and pristine and new. Sungyeol can hardly stifle his gasp at the size and complexity of the metropolis.

There are several complications with the time differences. Sometimes Sungyeol calls at 9PM and Sungjong’s just gotten out of bed. Sometimes it’s the other way around. But one thing that’s constant is that Sungjong’s time moves at a speed rapidly faster than Sungyeol’s.

Sungjong tells him about the second batch of tickets, and the third. Sungyeol tries to ignore the dread shifting in his belly.

 

When Earth imploded, Sungyeol had been asleep.

 

Sungyeol will wonder, a few years down the road, if he would actually hear it. If it was louder than the clock ticking at his bedside.

 

There is something Sungyeol wants to forget.

It is the voice message that he finds on his first day on Mars.

The time stamp reads the night before, at around three in the morning. Sungyeol was dozing then, tired by their last round of lovemaking. He’d woken up sometime after four, and then they had laid side to side, face to face, until the sky lightened and Sungyeol had to go.

He had opened it in excitement, excited to hear the nuances in Sungjong’s voice that the telephone cannot hope to capture.

 _Sungyeol-ah. It’s me._ A little cough. _This is so awkward. I’m speaking to your phone when you’re sleeping right next to me._ Sungjong laughs and Sungyeol laughs with him, a little giddy at the sound of his voice.

_But don’t laugh, I’m serious here._

_I think you and I know that I am not coming over to join you. I never did tell you, but._ Here Sungjong’s voice wobbles a little, and Sungyeol barely had time to reel from the shock before Sungjong regains his bearings enough to continue. _But the first selection was for Asia. It was the only chance any of us could leave, a-and I’m glad they chose you._

_I didn’t want you to watch the news because they were broadcasting exactly that. I’m sorry, I lied to you again, but Sungyeol--_

 

Sungyeol attends the funeral on a Wednesday. He briefly wonders how much time had passed on Earth since its own demise. Sungyeol regrets not finding out how much ahead of time they are to the people on Earth.

But that doesn’t matter now.

They couldn’t account for everyone who was left behind. Sungyeol goes back to his issued apartment in the sprawling artificial city and wonders if anything would have changed if he hadn’t opened the recording on that day, but today.

Sungyeol thinks there will not be a difference. The difference is that Sungyeol is here, and Sungjong isn’t.

_We are built to live on, even without the parts we think are essential._

Sungyeol thinks that Sungjong might have recited it from a book somewhere. It’s just like him to quote something and leave out the credits.

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from livejournal


End file.
